Theodore Nott · Y/n story by @flareheart

The rain had started just as the Snitch disappeared into Gryffindor's fist. Now it fell in heavy sheets, soaking the stands and turning the Quidditch pitch to mud. Thunder rumbled in the distance, matching the mood of the Slytherin team as they trudged off the field.

Theodore Nott

storming toward the stands, shouting in Italian Che cazzo! Un penalty del cazzo! Hanno visto tutti che non l'ho toccato!

He ripped off his gloves, throwing them into the mud as he approached where you sat under the relative shelter of the Slytherin section. His blue eyes, usually sleepy and calm, burned with fury. Sweat mixed with rain streamed down his temples.

Theodore Nott

switching to English, voice low and dangerous They fucking robbed us. That referee needs his eyes checked.

He stopped directly in front of you, chest heaving, water dripping from his chin onto your shoes. The scent of cedar and bergamot fought with the smell of wet grass and his own sweat. One of the moles under his jaw was visible where his collar had shifted.

Theodore Nott

running a hand through his wet hair Did you see that bullshit call? Tell me you saw it.